


in fate's fragile hands

by xinteng



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient China, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Violence, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Fantasy, Historical Inaccuracy, Major Character Injury, Multi, Non-Consensual Kissing, Reincarnation, Unhappy Ending, a godtier ot3 if you will, lufanxing is my secret ot3, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25205419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xinteng/pseuds/xinteng
Summary: Yixing finds himself caught in between the Emperor and his consort.
Relationships: Lu Han/Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Lu Han/Wu Yi Fan | Kris/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Lu Han/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Wu Yi Fan | Kris/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	in fate's fragile hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [youtiao](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youtiao/gifts).



> this fic is 100% [xexo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youtiao/pseuds/xexo)'s fault and therefore i wrote it in one sitting at uh.. 2 am this morning.  
> based almost entirely on an mv, though i strongly recommend watching it _after_ reading to avoid spoilers (i'll link it in the end notes).
> 
> a little bit of mandarin vocab sprinkled throughout, though all you really need to know is that _Chang'e_ is the goddess of the moon. a more formal glossary will be in the end notes.
> 
> i don't want to spoil anything too much, but the non-con kissing is tagged that way because one of them does not remember their previous incarnation and therefore does not consent to being kissed by the other

The air is warm—red curtains flutter lightly in the heat of the candles, soft and glimmering. Around the room are lords and ladies, gathered from each corner of the province, their gazes expectant and wanting, hands folded politely in their laps. The fingers of his left hand run up lightly along the smooth, well-polished and familiar neck of his _erhu_ , settled neatly upon his left thigh. The chatter is quiet but it fades away as he slowly, gracefully, begins the performance, body swaying to the music instinctively. Dancers, in finely draped silks, move as one, bodies forming beautiful shapes in the air in front of him.

He closes his eyes and loses himself in the melody he weaves. As he plays, an ache builds in his chest, the rhythm of his song getting more and more frantic. When it becomes unbearable, he opens his eyes again, peering through the holes of the heavy metal mask he wears.

He makes eye contact with the Emperor and his consort on the dais across from him.

A sudden surge of despair runs up his spine and overwhelmed, he jolts, the bow screeching across the strings of his beloved _erhu_ , an anguished cry, as he drops it, panting. His eyes sting.

The mask falls.

Yixing looks down.

.

Yifan bursts into the room used for prayer, frantic. His hands have already notched an arrow in his bow, ready to fly loose at his will. He has guards by his side, though that matters little as he looks upon the scene in front of him—a strange man, swathed in dark cloth that covers his face and leaves only his eyes visible, with a knife at his lover’s neck. As he turns to look at Yifan, Lu Han is spun to face him with his back to the assassin, and Yifan feels a slow trickle of relief as he scans his figure quickly, seeing no wounds. There are no thoughts as Yifan feels his blood sing beneath his skin, the pounding of his heart chanting in his ear to keep Lu Han safe. His fingers twitch, and the arrow whistles as it flies through the air, embedding itself into the man’s shoulder. It is an action he has done millions of times, both in practice and in war. This is no different.

With no reaction but the slight widening of his eyes in shock, the man releases Lu Han, who stumbles back to stare at the assailant, and Yifan wastes no time in loosing another arrow, this time straight through the man’s heart. He crumples to the ground, his clothing spilling around his figure like dark, freshly made ink. Heart racing with fear and concern, Yifan looks towards his lover, freshly released from the grip of his would-be assassin. A strange twist of emotions crosses Lu Han’s face as he looks at the man on the ground, a mix of fear and anguish and resignation. He is frozen into place, but as Yifan strides towards the assassin, Lu Han stands up suddenly to turn and grab the incense next to him, lit earlier for meditation, throwing it upon the man, who lies already dead on the floor.

Horrified, all Yifan can do is watch as the man before him catches fire. Though he has seen bodies burn in battle, and smelled the odor of death, there is something inexplicably shocking about witnessing a body burning in the sanctity of the rooms of his palace used for prayer.

When the smell of ashes and burned flesh permeate the air, Yifan pulls Lu Han to his arms, brushing a soft kiss over the smooth darkness of his hair, breathing in the comfortingly familiar smell of jasmine.

Lu Han does not look away.

.

Yifan sits at the edge of the bed, Lu Han’s figure curled up next to him, with his head on his lap. Absentmindedly, he plays with his hair, folding the soft strands around his hand, threading his fingers through the silky mass so he can trace lightly over the beat that pulses in his neck. The evening is quiet—the servants have long since retired, with only the customary few guards outside his door for protection, and he can hear the cicadas buzzing in the trees outside. “It’s late,” he feels Lu Han sit up, leaning on one hand so he can press even closer to Yifan. When Yifan doesn’t reply, Lu Han sighs softly. “You need your rest, my Emperor. I will take my leave.”

Lu Han presses a kiss tenderly to the corner of his mouth, leaving behind the scent of jasmine in his wake.

Yifan closes his eyes, and dreams of the strange man, falling without a sound.

.

The moon is luminous and full as she bathes the lake in her splendor. The water moves languidly as fish swim beneath it, uncaring and unwilling to follow the rhythms of man. Yifan dips his fingers in the water, relishing in the chill, a sharp contrast to the sweltering humidity of summer. The lotus flowers seem to glow under the moonlight, and entranced, Yifan reaches out to pick one, fingers caressing the velvety petals.

With a sharp tug, he pulls, and as he does so, he sees a hand, entwined around the stem of the flower he has picked. Alarmed, Yifan quickly reaches his other hand out to grasp it, extending his balance on the boat so he doesn’t tip over. With his hand still clasped tightly around the foreign one, a pale arm rises out of the water, followed by the figure of a naked man with hair the color of white jade, glowing as if kissed by _Chang’e_ herself. He hangs in the air, suspended, and all Yifan can do is stare at this beautiful creature of magic in front of him. 

The man opens his eyes and locks gazes with Yifan, and something in his body cries out at the familiarity of the look. Heat slips down his spine, a lover’s caress. For a moment, everything stands still, as they watch each other, and Yifan’s heart sings.

Then, the man closes his eyes, a small smile on his lips, and falls.

.

When the gates open and Lu Han finds his husband on the other side, relief rushes through him before he registers the man with hair the color of moonlight lying slumped in Yifan’s arms. He is draped in what Lu Han recognizes to be Yifan’s night robe, one of his favorites, the scarlet one embroidered with small chrysanthemums and a fierce dragon crawling up along its side. The man wears a small pendant around his throat, something that looks to be half of a circle. Envy claws its way up his throat, but he pushes it down, giving his husband a small smile. Yifan, to his credit, looks contrite enough, choosing to say nothing to Lu Han as he passes by, followed by his servants and guards who know better than to speak for fear of the Emperor’s wrath.

Lu Han goes to Yifan’s chambers and waits.

It isn’t long before Yifan comes back, looking tired but distinctly pleased, and the bitterness within Lu Han expands brilliantly, threatening to swallow him whole.

“I hope you’re pleased,” is all he says, when the candles have been blown out and all he can see is the faint line of Yifan’s figure in the dark, next to him.

Yifan does not reply.

.

Under the watchful gaze of the moon, Yifan slips out of the room, pausing only briefly in the doorway to look back at Lu Han’s body, warm beneath the thin covers. Lu Han has always been beautiful, much to the envy of men and women alike, but in sleep he looks younger, more like the boy Yifan first met, intelligent and unafraid to challenge him. He has grown to love the smooth slope of his nose, the fine point of his chin, the eyes that regard him with fondness and rare exasperation.

And yet it is not enough, and Yifan finds that his heart aches for more.

He turns his back on his lover and heads off into the night, searching.

.

The soft, lilting strains of the _erhu_ greet him as he approaches, eyes tracking the figure settled on the banks of the lake where Yifan had first set eyes on him. His hair is unbound down his back, spilling across the broad planes of his back like moonlight, and though Yifan doesn’t announce himself, the man doesn’t flinch as Yifan comes forward to sit next to him, merely continues playing, eyes closed and expression peaceful.

When the song ends, the man opens his eyes once more and their gazes lock, much like they had the first time, in the middle of the lake. “Emperor,” he greets politely, dipping his head slightly.

“You play beautifully,” Yifan gestures towards the _erhu_ , cradled carefully in the slope of the man’s arm.

“Thank you,” he smiles, a small, knowing quirk of his lips.

The man continues to play, and the two of them sit there, peaceful in their silence.

“My name is Yixing,” the man finally says, at the end of the night.

 _Yixing_ , Yifan repeats, tasting the word in his mouth. _Yixing._

.

Night after night, Lu Han wakes with the Emperor’s side of the bed cold and empty, and he mourns, closing his eyes, before determinedly dressing and setting out in search of Yifan. The scene that greets him each time is the same—Yifan and the man, on the banks of the lake sharing company.

And Lu Han, who had always prided himself on his courage, cannot find it within him to go up them to confront him. A prickle of shame slides deep into his chest, and it burns as it slices through his heart.

.

Yixing carefully wades across the lake towards Yifan, who is sitting in the boat watching him, perfectly dry. He is in his element—the water is soothingly cool, and the lotus flowers seem to part around his figure as he makes his way to the boat. His robe is half open, revealing a sliver of pale skin that Yifan can’t seem to take his eyes off of, and he smiles coyly as he finally reaches him and reaches out a hand to cup the Emperor’s face gently. Water from his fingers trickle down Yifan’s throat, and Yixing has the sudden urge to kiss the droplets away, mark him the way Yifan has marked his own heart, not with actions nor words, but with what he knows to be love.

When Yifan finally closes the distance between them, all Yixing can do is sigh into his mouth and eagerly press himself closer so that their chests brush and he can feel Yifan’s heartbeat pounding against his own.

.

Lu Han sits beside him at dinner, as custom, and though they exchange the same pleasantries and Yifan still regards him with his full attention when Lu Han asks for it, he knows it is not the same. Yifan no longer sleeps through the night with Lu Han in his bed, he kisses Lu Han without the passion of before, and afterwards Lu Han can almost swear that he tastes the fragrance of the lotus imprinted on his own lips from Yifan’s.

When Lu Han excuses himself early from the meal, citing a small stomachache, Yifan lets him go without a second glance.

.

The door to Yixing’s room had been left open—he had been placed in quarters near the consort’s, upon Yifan’s wishes, of course, and the man himself was sitting by the windowsill, one hand resting gently upon the strange pendant around his neck that he never took off, and staring up wistfully at the moon.

Lu Han didn’t bother announcing his arrival—merely strolled in and went up to the man, staring at him before slapping him, hard.

Clutching a hand to the cheek already beginning to bloom crimson, he does nothing but stare at Lu Han. Fear enters Yixing’s eyes and Lu Han feels a sick sense of satisfaction unfurl in his stomach. Though he tries to will them away, tears begin to well up the more he stares at the man in front of him, and his fists clench tightly by his sides before he roughly grabs Yixing by his robe and kisses him. When he pushes him away, Lu Han tries again, only to have Yixing shove him to the floor and back up several steps.

Wiping his mouth, Lu Han glares before ripping the half moon pendant off of Yixing’s neck, bringing out a matching one from his pocket in the same movement.

Eyes wide, Yixing watches as Lu Han fits the two pieces together.

.

_Yixing rummages around in his pocket. His face visibly brightens when he finds it, and Lu Han struggles not to smile in exasperated fondness. “Here,” he says, opening his palm up so Lu Han can see it too. “One for me and one for you.”_

_Gingerly, he takes the pendant, a half moon shaped disc, tied to a black cord. It fits perfectly to Yixing’s, and Lu Han smiles, because it fits them perfectly—yin and yang, two halves to a whole_. _The sun is warm on his face, bright with the promise of future, and he slips his hand into Yixing’s, leaning forwards to slot their mouths together, comfortable and familiar._

.

_When the Emperor travels through their province in his march to war, Lu Han stands among the front lines of people waiting to greet their Emperor. Even though he is the son of a lesser lord, he is still the royalty of this province and so it is the duty of him and his people to present their strongest front to the Emperor. Not for the first time, he wishes Yixing could stand by him as well—but it was not his place, not being of noble blood. Instead, Yixing is behind him, waiting patiently with the rest of his family and the village people._

_The thundering of hooves and rumbling of the earth begin far before the Emperor and his soldiers rise over the crest of the hill leading down to where they are gathered. When the Emperor finally stops, dismounting in order to politely greet his parents first, Lu Han feels an odd prickle of nerves that run across the back of his neck. His head is still lowered, facing the dirt, and Lu Han’s fingers tighten in his pocket as he rubs his thumb over the smooth edge of the half moon pendant he always keeps on him. When fingers, rough from long hours of sword practice but with cleanly trimmed fingernails, tilt his head up, Lu Han rises and looks at the Emperor._

_“My lord,” he bows, deeply._

_The Emperor smiles, and Lu Han is surprised to find it genuine. He is a handsome man, a strong warrior, the whispers had always said, and they had not lied._

_Still though, Lu Han is glad when the Emperor tears his gaze away from him._

_He grips Yixing’s pendant tighter._

.

_“I’m coming with you,” Yixing had said, his mouth set in a stubborn line, and Lu Han knew that look._

_“No,” he said, flatly. “You can’t.”_

_“You can’t stop me,” his best friend, his lover challenged. “You won’t. You’ll miss me too much.” And here, Yixing’s lips tilted up in a familiar smirk._

_Lu Han hated that he was right._

.

_Yixing was waiting for him, in the room set for prayer. They had arranged to meet there, because it was a reasonable excuse for Lu Han to be wandering around the palace at this hour, and because the servants knew well enough not to disturb him. “I missed you,” Lu Han breathed, as he leant fully into Yixing, who kissed back just as desperately. The path Yixing’s hands took down Lu Han’s spine was familiar—they had taken the same road time and time again, but each time with a new sense of wonder, a new sense of passion. They fell into a routine that was old and comfortable, tracing over each other’s skin, murmuring sweet pleasures into each other’s hair._

_When footsteps march loudly in the hallway growing ever closer, fear freezes Lu Han’s spine until it is Yixing who is the one to stand up, gathering the discarded black cloak on the floor and swathing himself in it until it is only his eyes that are visible. Yifan bursts in, an arrow already notched as Yixing pulls a dagger from nowhere and spins Lu Han so he is facing Yifan as well, his back to Yixing’s front. Carefully, he puts the knife to Lu Han’s neck, and waits for Yifan’s next move._

_Yifan doesn’t hesitate—the arrow, carefully aimed, whistles as it travels through the air and Lu Han flinches as it flies past his face, landing with a sickening thud in Yixing’s shoulder, forcing him to let go of Lu Han, then a second arrow, straight through Yixing’s heart._

_He had heard the stories of the Emperor’s ferociousness in war, witnessed the strength he possessed. Lu Han had once loved him for it—and yet, when Yixing’s warmth is torn violently away, he finds that he feels nothing but a sickening emptiness for what Yifan has so callously taken from him._

_When Yifan moves forwards, Lu Han has no choice but to grab the flame burning from the incense lit earlier and throw it upon Yixing’s crumpled form. He stares, as the flames build higher and higher, and though his eyes sting from the smoke, they are dry. He barely feels when Yifan comes to gather him in his arms, murmuring soothing words and stroking his hair. He can only stare at what once was, and what will never be again._

_._

_Lu Han places a small strand of Yixing’s hair, along with Yixing’s half of the pendant carefully in a crystal chalice. The lake is serene before him, and the moon luminous in its splendor, bathing him in soft light. Closing his eyes, he prays, and begins the ancient ritual of chanting and humming, all the while beating a small gong._

_The ripples on the lake grow bigger, and the moon shines brighter, as if Chang’e has heard him and taken pity on him._

_Finally, exhausted, he opens his eyes._

_Yifan is on the other side of the lake in a small boat, and Lu Han watches as he dips his fingers into the water, reaching for a lotus flower to pick. When he pulls the stem, however, a hand rises out of the lake and Lu Han gasps as Yixing’s form begins to emerge, as if reborn._

_Even from the distance, it is not hard to see the wonder and awe on Yifan’s face as he gazes upon Yixing’s figure, and when he cradles Yixing gently in his own arms, Lu Han has to turn away, feeling his heart break all over again._

.

Yixing pulls Lu Han in tightly, so his head is cradled in Lu Han’s neck, before he brings his hands back up to frame Lu Han’s face and kiss him. Their kiss is salty with tears, tastes of desperation and longing and _hope_ , and they clutch at each other the way heaven and earth hold each other in their everlasting embrace.

“Don’t leave me again,” Yixing says, eyes wild and a little frantic.

All Lu Han can do is nod.

Neither of them notice Yifan, watching from the shadows, a silent tear slipping down his face before he clenches his jaw and leaves.

.

The room is silent when Yixing looks up again—and meets the gazes of the two people he loves. Yifan is furious—he alternates between glancing at him and Lu Han, betrayal shining in his eyes. With a roar, he sends the table in front of them flying, spilling all the food that had been piled upon it and breaking the beautifully wrought china into impossible smithereens. With a rough hand, he grips Lu Han by the throat, squeezing hard before throwing him down to the floor and letting him crumple. A pulse jumps in Yifan’s jaw as he stares at his consort, and he pulls a sword from one of the guards next to him, prepared to strike Lu Han down for his treachery. Yixing screams as the blade swings, and rushes forwards, desperately using his _erhu_ to knock Yifan off balance enough so that his aim is off. The blade slices along Lu Han’s ribs and he cries out, blood immediately rushing to stain the fabric of the silk robe he is wearing. With a growl, Yifan turns his anger on Yixing, bringing the sword up to his throat much in the same way Yixing had done to Lu Han before, pivoting them so they are face to face and Yifan’s back is to Lu Han, who has still not gotten up.

“I’m sorry,” is all Yixing can choke out, as the blade rests dangerously against his jugular. The tears that had welled up before finally spill out, and Yifan watches as they trickle down Yixing’s fair cheek and throat to collect against the silver of his sword.

His grip on Yixing loosens, slightly, and his gaze softens.

But Yixing’s eyes jump over his shoulder and Yifan can only watch as they widen in fear, then sorrow, before Yixing turns them around with the last of his strength, slicing his neck against Yifan’s blade in the process, so Lu Han’s blade enters his back. Arrows whistle through the air before they embed themselves in Lu Han, and a grimace mars Yixing’s face before he closes his eyes and falls into Yifan, who drops his sword and catches him, cradling his head in his lap. His hands are bloody— _Yixing’s blood_ —and he cannot think, can only stare at the man that has been the one to complete his heart. His hair that shone like moonlight, matted with crimson, his once fair skin sullied with tears and scarlet.

The Emperor screams until his throat is hoarse, begs to _Chang’e_ to bring them back.

No one answers.

**Author's Note:**

> glossary:  
>  _Chang'e_ \- the goddess of the moon in Chinese mythology  
>  _erhu_ \- a two stringed traditional Chinese instrument (also known as a Chinese violin)
> 
> 1\. [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4GuR_g75ufY) is the mv this fic was based on. give it a watch! i changed a few things but it might make the fic make more sense  
> 2\. can't tell if i'm pleased or not with this one tbh but! better than nothing i suppose  
> 3\. much thanks to the usual suspects for putting up with me  
> 4\. unedited etc you know the drill
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/staryxz)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/yixingzhang)


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